


Halloween...BUT WITH A GUN

by MLMDarkFiction



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Gun Kink, Home Invasion, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, cis male reader, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction
Summary: "Can I request a drabble/fic or smth with Michael Myers and a gun? I know they're not really his M.O. but I love him and I crave it."Michael saves you  from a home intruder looking to rob you blind, you decide to give him something in return for saving you.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	Halloween...BUT WITH A GUN

It’s a rhythmic banging sound that first got your attention, leading you to the kitchen. It’s the back door.

Someone, or something must have left it hanging open, allowing for the slight breeze from outside to send it gently crashing into your cabinets. 

You know for a fact you aren’t responsible for the open door. 

Try as you might, you can’t even remember the last time you’d even used the back door, but…

You’re not worried. 

Perhaps you’re the only person in all of Haddonfield, who could be unbothered at the prospect of an intruder in your home. 

And you’re  **definitely** the only person in Haddonfield  _ hoping  _ the intruder is Michael Myers. 

Weird Roommate? 

Friend?

Lover?

In reality, you have no idea how you should describe your relationship with The Shape. 

Michael is truly an enigma, as most would guess. 

Everything he does is unpredictable. 

He comes and goes as he pleases, almost never locking or closing doors behind himself, you’re used to it at this point. 

And at the end of the day, you know that whether you want him to or not, Michael will always come back. 

At least, up until now he’s always found his way back into your home. 

You hope that the door being left wide open is a sign that Michael’s finally returned home. 

The door is shut, and you’re smiling. Honestly this is a big step for Michael, as it appears he’s not left you a trail of blood to clean up. 

Perhaps he was finally learning manners? 

Or maybe after so long of being away he simply hadn’t wanted you to yell at him for leaving yet another mess. 

There’s no rush in trying to find Michael. 

As every other time he’s come to visit, you know he’ll find you when the time is right. 

It may not be intentional, although you really think it is, Michael always ends up scaring you. 

He thinks it’s funny. Even though you can’t see his face, you know he does. He loves seeing the way you jump at his sudden appearances throughout your shared home. 

Nothing about your night changes. You carry on the exact same way you would have if you hadn’t discovered the open door. 

After making a bowl of popcorn you settle down on your couch to watch the Countdown to Halloween horror movie marathon on your TV. 

About twenty-minutes into some B-Slasher film when you hear it. A crash from upstairs. 

Suddenly you feel a lot more on edge. 

Michael’s not…

Michael isn’t the type to make much noise at all. 

You try to reason with yourself, to tell yourself that it’s just Michael, that he must have dropped something…

But you’re unable to convince yourself. 

_ Stupid Horror Movie.  _

“Michael?” It’s a soft call at first, and yet...It’s loud enough that the noises you’d been hearing from upstairs come to a complete stop. 

The sudden silence does nothing for your already frazzled nerves. 

All you hear now is the soft sound of your feet against the carpet as you make your way to the bottom of the stairs.

Looking up you see absolutely nothing. No sudden Michael to assuage your fears. 

“This isn’t funny, Michael!” 

Even using your angry voice gets you nothing in response, and it causes you to quickly come to terms with the fact that if you want to go back to relaxing, then you’re going to have to investigate the cause of the noise yourself. 

The irony of this whole situation isn’t lost on you however, a chill runs down your spine as the poor soon-to-be-dead woman on TV calls out ‘Hello?’ into her own, stranger infested, home. 

Everything about this seems like it’s a parody, the stairs even creak underneath you as you make your way up. 

Suddenly you’re all too aware of the source of the crash. 

Not Michael. 

Definitely not Michael.

“You’ve made this easy on me,”    
  
Your blood goes completely cold as this stranger turns to you, gun pointed directly at you. Anything you could do or say is completely null. The situation, your body...It all feels frozen.

“Show me where you keep the real valuables.” 

Slowly your body begins to unfreeze, and you force yourself to nod in response to the armed intruder. 

There’s nothing but the pounding of your heart in your ears as you continue to your bedroom. 

As soon as you make your way to the doorway the man grabs you roughly from behind, you can’t help the small scream that leaves your panicked lips at the sudden touch.    
  
“Where?”

“Under the bed.”

“Go.”    
  
He’s shoving the gun into your lower back, inspiring you to follow his commands, as, even through your shirt, you can feel the guns barrel. 

You nod, risking a glance back at your captor. 

Your breath hitches but...you relax. 

Michael. 

For real this time, it’s Michael, standing completely unnoticed domineeringly behind the armed man.

Even with his mask on as always, you can feel the intensity radiating off of him. The malevolent energy is so strong, you’re surprised the Intruder seems to be completely unaware it’s no longer the two of you. 

“I said get the good shit!” 

Finally you’re snapped out of your shock and relief, and you nod your head again. Crouching down you put on the facade of retrieving your safe from below the bed. 

Michael doesn’t make you wait. 

“What the-” 

From your position you can’t tell what exactly Michael did, but the crashing of the gun on the ground is a relief, at least until you realize if it had fallen just right it could have easily gone off. 

Still you quickly grab the gun with your shaking hands before rising to meet the scene before you. 

This is the first time you’ve actually  _ seen  _ Michael in action. 

Of course you know  _ who  _ Michael is, and  _ what _ he does, but seeing it live….

Seeing it live is totally different. 

Michael is holding the man in the air by his neck. You’re entranced watching the man's feet dangle uselessly, before pressing into Michael’s chest. 

It doesn’t seem to matter how much he struggles or kicks, Michael doesn’t seem fazed at all. 

Though you hate to admit it, there's something undeniably hot about Michael holding a struggling man in the air as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. The sight goes straight to your cock. 

You’re so aroused-

You’re so entranced by Michael that you have to force your gaze away when it’s clear the struggling man is close to the end of his life. 

His face is red, fingers desperately clawing at Michael’s hands as if it would somehow be enough to free him from the crushing grip. 

You shut your eyes tightly. 

In this moment you’re dangerously aware of everything going on in the room with you; the pounding of your frantic heart isn’t loud enough to block out the last struggles, and gasps of the man, nor do you miss the way it all suddenly stops. 

This silence is immediately followed by a thump, the thump of Michael dropping the now dead man onto your bedroom floor. 

Michael is…

You don’t know what he’s doing. 

You tell yourself you’re not afraid of him, and yet...you find yourself unable to open your eyes. 

The gun has grown warm in your now very nervous, sweaty hands. 

With blood rushing in your ears you become hyper aware of your partly adrenaline, but mostly Michael caused boner, and the way that it’s straining painfully against the fabric of your pants. 

A large hand, one that’s much larger than your own, develops your hand, the one holding the gun. 

Slowly you open your eyes to find yourself face to face, or more accurately, face to chest, with Michael.

You watch Michael as he takes the gun from your grasp. 

With his mask still on it’s nearly impossible to tell where Michael is looking, but it really seems like he’s staring at both the gun now in his hands, and at you as you watch him. 

“Michael?”    
  
His name leaves your lips tentatively. You’re surprised by yourself, surprised by the fact there’s no waiver or tremble of fear noticeable in your voice.

His head tilts in a familiar response at your gentle call of his name, and now you’re sure you’ve gotten the man's full attention. 

Briefly your eyes drop from Michael’s masked face to the dead body at your feet, before returning to the other man's covered face. 

“Thank you…”   
  
After all, if Michael hadn’t intervened, it most likely would have been you dead on the floor. 

There’s a hesitation, and then silence envelops you both once again. 

Surprisingly, it’s Michael who ends the tension. A simple step forward is all it takes, before he’s pulling you close against his chest into a crushing embrace.

It’s odd. 

You welcome the unusual affection, but it’s still odd. 

Michael isn’t usually so...soft. 

‘Maybe,’ you think, ‘He’d actually been worried.’

The hug is nice, but tight. You’re sure that’s because he’s unused to initiating such subtle affections. 

You notice two things while in the hug though;

Michael is also hard, his cock straining the jumpsuit to press against your own while you embrace, and that Michael still has the gun. 

It’s not pointed at you, of course, but you can feel it in his hand as he holds you. 

Michael doesn’t break the hug. 

As soon as you’d felt his erection you knew he likely wouldn’t.

  
  


The two of you, you’d done things like this before. 

He is, to put it lightly, inexperienced, but he’s always been curious and eager. 

Body kept flush against his own, you’re unable to do anything as he grinds his hips into your own as he desperately searches for friction. 

A soft moan leaves your lips, and you have to keep from shuddering when you hear Michael give a deep inhale from within his latex mask. 

The Shape doesn’t moan. In your experience, he never has, but you’ve learned how to tell Michael is enjoying himself. 

You’ve learned to listen out for every deep breath, shuddering exhale, and low growl. 

“Here,”

You take a step back, not missing the almost needy way that Michael tries to grip your shoulders in an attempt to keep you close.

“Let me help.” 

Only you.

You’re the only person who could strip Michael Myers, and live to tell the tale. 

His jumpsuit is easily removed, and no surprise to you, he’s completely bare underneath. 

You leave the mask. 

In all the time you’ve seen Michael, he’s only been maskless a handful of times, and every time it had been his own choice to remove it. 

It’s a boundary. 

A symbol of trust.

And no matter your relationship with the other man, you’re not about to overstep it. 

Michael’s now completely naked aside from the mask, and his cock is standing at full attention. 

It’s a full 7 ½ inches. 

You watch as it bobs gently in anticipation as Michael gently adjusts his weight as he becomes used to the cool night air of your bedroom. 

Like usual, this level of intimacy with Michael is prefaced by curiosity and need for relief.

It’s Michael’s pleasure that matters. It’s always been like that. 

Despite the likeness of your bodies, you’re not sure Michael could pleasure you back, if he even knew how. 

He pulls you in again, and you’re quick to fall into routine, dropping to your knees in front of the larger man. 

There’s no waiting, no moment to catch your breath, Michael is straight to the point. 

His scent quickly fills your senses as he lays his cock against your face. 

He humps against it, rubbing the sweaty organ against your cheeks and nose, at one point you stop him as he’s getting dangerously close to thrusting  _ into _ your eye. 

You’re allowed a single deep breath before you take the head of his large cock into your mouth. 

Not only is his musk overwhelming, but so is his taste. 

Salt. 

Sweat.

Skin. 

Without thinking you moan wantonly around him, tongue wrapping around the head, licking his slit and the precum that had already started gathering there. 

It’s only Michael who could get you to act in such a way. 

To get you to act like an eager cock sucking whore, even knowing you’ll get nothing in return. 

You’ve trained yourself to take his monster cock.

Or…

You’ve at least trained yourself to take most of it. 

A gag still manages to leave your throat when your partner decides he’s had enough and wants  **more** . 

All it took was a single hard thrust for him to sheathe is aching member in your willing throat. 

One day you think he may accidentally kill you with his cock. 

Perhaps he’ll thrust too hard and accidentally puncture your esophagus. 

Maybe he’ll just hold you far too tightly, far too close, as your mouth is filled, nose in the curls of his pubes unable to breath as he finishes. 

The thought of dying by his cock...it makes your own twitch from it’s confines. 

You’re so focused on your goal of taking the full 7 ½ inches in your mouth, that you don’t notice Michael shifting above you. 

No, you’re left with no warning of what’s to come. 

Metal presses softly to your cheeks, and instantly you freeze.

You begin taking short, panicked breaths of air through your nose, cock still clogging your airway, as you look up to Michael. 

He’s just staring, no expression visible through the damned mask, and no real reaction to your stopping or to your very clear fear. 

Instead of stopping, or showing any sort of intent, Michael just begins to gently trail the gun lower. 

The steel traces down your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and eventually rests right under your chin. 

You relax, if only slightly, knowing Michael won’t shoot with his dick in your mouth. 

He’s been shot enough times now to know it hurts, and would likely know better than to shoot his own dick off. 

However, this relief is short lived. 

Once again Michael begins to move the gun away from your chin, down, and further down again, until at last it’s being pressed against the obvious tent in your pants. 

There’s no way to keep in a moan at the feeling of something, anything, even a gun, touching your poor aching dick. 

Any thoughts you had about what exactly Michael’s planning to do quickly leave your head as Michael gives a quick and sudden thrust. 

It has you choking again. 

Tears, snot, and drool leave you at the sudden extra strain. 

You work faster on Michael’s cock, bobbing your head just right, moaning for the extra stimulation, all while the other man continues to prod your own member with a fucking gun. 

You try to avoid thinking about the fear,  _ and the arousal _ , this new addition to your routine is causing. 

No, instead of thinking about that, and what it means about you as a person, you decide instead to focus on Michael. 

All you’re thinking about is him, his cock, and how to make him cum. 

It isn’t long until your efforts are rewarded, after all, despite his above average endowment, he’s never lasted very long. 

  
  


Still,he seems to lose his load much faster than he usually does. 

In an almost mockery of your earlier fantasy, your nose is forced into Michael’s unkempt pelvis, as your mouth, throat, and stomach are filled with his bitter cum. 

The longer you go without air, hardly able to breathe even through your nose like this, the more you fear every part of your earlier fantasy is going to be fulfilled.

But…

Michael has mercy.

Once he’s finally beginning to soften up, he pulls himself entirely from your mouth. 

For the moment you’ve forgotten the gun, now much more focused on your aching jaw, and swollen red lips. 

Michael reminds you quickly though. 

In your kneeling position, Michael has no trouble pushing you onto your back, especially now that you’re exhausted, unable to fight him. 

All you can do against him is look up with confusion. 

“Michael, what-”

You weren’t really expecting a response. 

Of course the response you get isn’t verbal, no, Michael responds to your inquiries in a physical manner. 

All you can do is moan in mixed pain and pleasure as he once again presses the gun against your erection, however this time...he’s much rougher than he’d been before. 

It feels almost as if he’s trying to  **crush** your cock. 

Still it seems that for the first time your relationship with The Shape had become sexual, that he decided you were finally allowed to cum too. 

He keeps you like that- 

Splayed out on the floor in front of him, legs spread, all while you moan and write for him as he roughly outlines your cock with the tip of the gun. 

He doesn’t stop. 

Not until you cum. 

And when it finally happens, when you finally cum, you’re filled with a mix of relief and humiliation.

Relief that Michael had finally moved the gun away, not just from your genitals, but from you entirely. 

Humiliation at the fact you’d cum without a real human touch.

Humiliation at just how hard you’d cum due to going without for so long...and the mess you’d eventually have to clean out of your underwear. 

Although you can’t see his face, you can feel the smug aura radiating off of Michael. 

He’s clearly proud of what he’s done today, and you have a feeling he’s not going to let you forget this exact encounter any time soon. 

**Author's Note:**

> Have a request? Mlmdarkfiction.tumblr.com/ask


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